


Hands Up, Hands Tied

by SC182



Series: Live Fast, Die Young (Bad Girls) [1]
Category: Fast and the Furious (2001), Fast and the Furious Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Badass, F/F, F/M, Female Character of Color, M/M, Pre-Slash, Prompt Fic, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 22:45:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SC182/pseuds/SC182
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...<i>her mental wheels never stop turning. They only go faster.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands Up, Hands Tied

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from a mashup 100_prompts comm chart . Title and verse name taken from M.I.A.'s "[Bad Girls](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2uYs0gJD-LE)". 
> 
> Live Fast, Die Young (Bad Girls) Verse Summary: Toretto is responsible for the jackings, just not Dom. Basically, the verse where Mia is whip smart and absolutely badass.

“I know, Mia.”

It takes everything in her to keep the wheel steady and not send them headlong into a guardrail. If she does, the false cause is night blindness; the real truth is a devastating tsunami of fury, guilt, and disappointment. She doesn’t want to die and, surprisingly, she doesn’t want to kill Brian either. If anything, she’s looking for a moment where she can just stomp on the brakes, make him slam his head into the dash, and then make a break for it.

Mia can’t listen any more to the words he barks into the phone. “This is Officer Brian O’Conner, off duty. Badge Number--”He sounds panicked. He doesn’t know panic unless he’s her right now.

Vince, _oh God_ , she should have listened to Vince. Vince says, “He’s a cop. He’s a fucking pig…Smells like bacon,” every time Brian enters a room, but she laughs him off. The part of her that knows this is her fault wants to be charmed by him. Wants to finally be the recipient of attention not fractioned up to give Dom the biggest helping. Wants to finally be seen as more than the shy, innocent sister that’s gotta keep her head in the books.

Goddamn it, she’s needs to get to Let. To Jesse. To Leon. To Vince. Oh, shit, to Dom.

“This is a mobile number trace request…”

* * *

It’s a stupid idea at first; one that comes to her when shooting the shit with her biomechanics study group, and after foregoing smoking any of the skunk weed passed from hand to hand and she instead goes through a couple of beers. It’s a post-finals-are-done-and-we-survived type of party. So she’s clearheaded and aware, still thinking about Dom’s latest edict or his attempts to parent a fully grown woman, and listens only partially attentive to the amped up lamenting about the cost of books, equipment and all things fun to the poor college student set.

Mia takes a drink and another but her mental wheels never stop turning. They only go faster.

When she gets home, she finds the house fuller than she’s left it. She hugs Jesse over the back of the sofa and scratches the top of Leon’s cap as they play Madden. She salutes and smiles at Vince and her brother who’re hanging in the kitchen and from the scowl on Dom’s face and the way his lips sink and disappear, he’s pissed. Vince clutching two longnecks says he’s trying to bust his mood. Mia loves her brother—dearly, but she’s not up for diffusing his temper and massaging his ego tonight. Not with the lingering smells of all things oppositional to a quiet library in her hair and jacket. There will be no more fights tonight.

She can feel the weight of Vince’s stare on her back as she drifts away from the kitchen. It’s one of those things she pretends not to notice. Like she pretends not to notice that there are more fights around here when Dom and Letty don’t have the smell of engine oil and hard rubber to buffer their interactions.

Finding Letty perched on her open windowsill is to be expected now. It’s one of the few decent spots in the house to catch an undisturbed view of the sky or catch a breeze strong enough to wrangle the stink of her rarely lit methanols. Dom hates Letty’s cigarettes and Letty hates when Dom’s a hypocrite.

She moves by rote memory to put her stuff away and takes a seat in front of Letty. Then she watches for what feels like the quietest seconds in Echo Park as smoke curls and slithers from the corners of Let’s mouth and flows through her still angry nostrils. Let has always been made for smoke and fire.

Mia knows better than to bring up Dom, so she brings up the party. “So, the thing about college kids everywhere--” and tells her about the complaints and half-formed thoughts and how Mia figures it really wouldn’t be that hard to bring the supply to those in demand. “--Anyone could do it. _We_ could do it.”

She stops when she realizes Letty’s actually listening. “No,” Mia says.  Because no one ever, really listens to her.

“ _Chica_ ,” Letty exhales a perfect ring and stubs the cherry out on the bottom of her boot, “you’ve already given the what, the why, and the how. The only question left is when?”

Mia can say no, can play it all off as a joke, but the part of her that’s just as much a Toretto—gasoline and steel and willing to ride headlong into a retaining wall—wants to try. When she puts the plan together it’s not at all about taking; it’s about giving back what’s owed and finally casting her own shadow instead of hiding in Dom’s.

“Cars—we’ll need cars and drivers…and guns.” Letty gives her a questioning look. “Not those kinds of guns.” In her head, theorems of propulsion, calculations for natural stress and strain, and torque roll and twist until she’s got a picture for how they’ll take down something much larger and traveling at equal speed. “We’ve gotta be better than fast. We have to be precise.”

“Who you tellin’?” Letty’s rocking that killer smirk that shows just how white and sharp her teeth are. “And the guys? There’s only so much bitchin’ and whinin’ I can take.” Her smirk melts away and it feels like a deep loss. Mia can already see the meltdown that will come from the secret not being shared. They’re all bad at smoothing hurt feelings.

Mia thinks of the guys. Each one is family, but make no mistake, they’re Dom’s friends first. Always have been. That’s why she handles Letty carefully because she’s the only one that ever belonged to Mia alone before Dom catches her eye. “Jess and Leon, definitely. Vince, maybe. Dom--”

Letty waits expectantly. Like the answer Mia gives will change the very fabric of their lives and all roads to come. She loves her brother, truly she does, and Mia can see that he’s trying. Pop’s death changed him, but Lompoc broke something inside, fractures him so totally that when she looks at him she sees an outline of the man her brother was and a shadow of a person he really isn’t. She’s not the only one who sees it. There are fights erupting more and more because of blunt words and clumsy action.

He’s stalling badly. He needs a fresh start. He can have plenty of anchors but not this one.

“And Dom?” Letty asks, nudging Mia with the tip of her boot.

Mia takes Letty’s hand and shakes her head. “No, this is ours. Just ours.” She means it.

 Letty’s grin burns brighter than butane and it’s all for Mia.

* * *

From the beginning she has only one rule: Dom can never know. She has a whole system for accounting for her floating cash: fake scholarships, double-down bets at rallies, extra hot days at the store where their god-awful tuna is the best option for a solid square mile, and it works. Or, so, she believes until tonight.

Mia’s been caught once, not quite twice, and as she whiteknuckles the grip on the wheel, she intends to do everything she can to hold on to that second ace without having to sacrifice it. Like Dom, she’s never been good at losing.

Brian pulls back from the phone. “What’s Dom’s number, Mia?” His eyes are caught between surprise and terror. It’s not for her, she knows. It’s for Dom. Because even the man she thinks she could love falls for her brother first and rides beside her trying to keep his heart from breaking.

It’s all falling to pieces. This is the final score before they find something else. Their collection of successes, such flawless executions, makes Jesse, Leon, and even Vince, more willing to be part of _her_ crew. And it is hers completely.

Letty says once, “Show ‘em the way you show me and they’ll follow you anywhere.” So Mia shows them how she really drives and the way that she can handle guns—spear and otherwise---big enough to knock her down like they’re an extension of her being. Jesse is curious. Leon is impressed. Vince falls so hard; he’ll never let her go.

It’s all so easy,

Then a Malibu blond, blue-eyed boy orders her tuna and genuinely likes it and she forgets the details and the plans to quit. Drunk on the thrill, Mia keeps going, driving faster and edging closer to danger and this seemingly carefree boy.

It’s her mistake for thinking that he’s hers first. Brian is Dom’s; she even teases, “He owns you now.” It’s a joke but she’s almost too late when she realizes that they’ve both taken it to heart. And then Dom’s not as broken and Brian’s seems more real, less perfect and just right for her. He’s not.

Now they’re racing towards finding her crew, who’ve started without her and her brother who now can’t be left out. Tran’s bait and bark sets this all in motion and she’s a fool for not flying lower and getting caught up with owing him a favor that he’s constantly trying to collect on. He doesn’t say it all but he says enough.

Then Dom knows. He leaves with hope shining in his eyes for Brian and promises of more bitter broken pieces for Mia.

Even with the promise of failure, it’s still hers.

“Mia, I’ve gotta help him, please.” Brian pleads.

He’s a cop and a liar. But so is she. And as usual, Dom’s caught between them.

One day, she’ll explain why she did this. When that day comes, neither she nor Dom will be sitting behind glass in cuffs. Of this, Mia is sure.

As morning begins to break, she flies closer to the red and exits the city. She takes one last savoring look at Brian. In his profile, she sees webs of heartbreaking lies and pleasurable possibilities. Too bad, they’ll never know.

She gives him the number.

 


End file.
